John
by Psad
Summary: Lilou C. Constantine's thoughts about his dad... "I love my dad. Really, I do but, sometimes, I just want to strangle him !"


Hi ! It's me again !^^ This story takes place just after "Chas". Thanks for the reviews on my previous stories, and like you wanted to know more about Lilou and that Michael's guy, there it is ! I'm also writing a longer fic about all this but it might be taking me a long time to finish it...

Please, keep in mind that I'm French so writing in English is not always easy for me, I just hope I haven't made huge mistakes and that you'll enjoy this fic. Bonne lecture !

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I love my dad. Really, I do but, sometimes, I just want to strangle him ! Like yesterday for example. What the hell is his problem ? I mean I called him "asshole" and he said "nothing new here kid", then I called him "daddy" and he said –well yelled at me and told me to stay in my room ! I personally think that his job is getting to his brain, I mean, come on, daddy !!! What the fuck ?!

My dad –John Constantine, yeah that's him alright, he's an exorcist and NO, he is not insane. Well, most of the time he isn't but there's always little moment like yesterday… But it's just John Constantine acting like John Constantine I guess. So, like I was saying my dad's an exorcist, it makes life interesting sometimes but most of the time it's just boring. So, ok he saved people with his job but, really lot of people can do that, like doctors or policemen… It's not like he saved the world ! Though, most of the time he acts like he had and everyone owe him. When I was little, I thought my dad saved the world, he was my hero and after that, well after that I grew up and realized he was just human. Humans don't save the world and live, I mean if he had saved the world, he would have die in the process, don't you think ? But, anyway, I do love him all the same 'cause he's my dad, even if he's strange and an asshole.

Yeah, he's strange : he's probably the only father who doesn't want to be called daddy and wouldn't say why ; and believe me I have asked ! He's not like others dads, that for sure. For the first day at school, children were kissed and hugged… I received an amulet, a bottle of Holy water and a tap on top of my head. Later, when I asked what sex was, he said "I can't deal with this, I won't deal with this !" and he just caught me and accompanied me to the Church. Michael was there, like always, and he greeted me with a big smile.

Michael is my friend, he's strange too : he always knows when we'll come and why but I like him. He had always been here for me and sometimes I stay with him when dad get all anxious and protective. Once, I asked Michael why it was him who stays with me in those times and he just said "I made a promise", so I asked "to whom?" "Your daddy" "He doesn't want to be called that" and he smiled a sad smile. Like he knew why but didn't want me to know.

Michael is cool most of the time but this day, he wasn't happy to have to explain a seven-year-old-girl what sex was ! Dad just smirked, I don't think he really likes Michael but for some odd reason, he doesn't seem to trust anyone but him when it comes to me and my security. I remember the one time I asked dad if he likes Michael, I think his answer was "I don't like people" so I asked him "do you like me ?" and he just said "_you're not people_". That could have been enough to know that he didn't like anyone but me, well, it wasn't. See, every year on the same day, we go to this little cemetery not too far from the church –Michael's church that is, it's not the only church in L.A. just the only one we go to. Every year, the same day, the same hour, the same cemetery, the same tomb. And, every year, dad tells me "wait here Lilou, don't go anywhere so I can see you and know your safe, cemeteries are dangerous. Just stay here and wait for me, I won't be long", and every year, I nod once and he goes there.

I watch him standing there, not moving at first, then his lips are moving fast like he's talking animatedly with someone –but there's no-one there, just the cold tombstone he's talking at. I watch him smiling with his eyes sparkling like no one else but me see normally and then I watch him when his face scrambles to the point you can only see raw pain. So every year, I had watched and I had wondered : who ? Who has the power to reduce John smart-ass Constantine to this ? And every year, I thought : someone he cared for, someone he loved… Mum ?

So, I didn't bought the whole "I don't like people" thing because I know the truth. And that the day I decided to go alone in this cemetery, to see for myself who he was mourning. I hoped to finally found the name of my mother, something dad wouldn't talk about, just "she was a great and beautiful woman", nothing more, nothing less. Always this answer, word to word. Two weeks later, I was there –braving the danger of cemeteries and the fear of dad finding out. I knew exactly where to go for having to watch dad so many times but I didn't found what I was hoping for. I just found a name : Chas Kramer.

Chas Kramer, twenty-year-old when he died in 2001 –that would have made me two. I had more questions than answers now and I couldn't ask them – dad would go ballistic if he knew I went alone to a cemetery. I was back to square one : it wasn't my mom, it couldn't be a brother (to old), and it couldn't be an uncle (not the same name). So, who was he ?

That was two years ago and I haven't figure it yet. I just know that the whole "I don't like people" is bullshit : dad cares for a lot of people even if he doesn't realize it. He cares about this Kramer guy, he cares about Angela, he cares about Midnite and Michael –even if he'd prefer died than admit it and, he cares about me.

I often think that he doesn't like me when he won't talk to me about something, that he doesn't care for my feelings when he acts like an asshole but the truth is, deep down I know he cares, I know he loves me. I don't know how I know but I know. Maybe it's the way he tucked me to bed when I was little, maybe it's the way he looked at the guy who had his hand on my shoulder when I was fourteen, maybe it's the look in his eyes when he's watching me, or maybe it's because I have known him for all my life and he haven't kill me yet… Anyway, I know that he loves me more than anything else –just like I love him.


End file.
